


Marked

by lunarcrowley



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Buff butchy femhawke, Character Development, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fenris as a Slave, Fenris as a damsel in distress, Humor, Humor Hawke, Hurt/Comfort, Mage Discourse, Mage Hawke - Freeform, Naive Fenris, Selfish Hawke, Subtle Romance, Tangled AU, perpetually unfinished, soft times, unlikely friends, wholesome content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarcrowley/pseuds/lunarcrowley
Summary: What if the story of Fenris was told through the story of Rapunzel in Tangled? It's more likely than you think...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this has been done before, but I wrote this a few years ago, when I watched Tangled and thought of how a comparison could be drawn to Fenris's history and his relationship with Hawke. It produced this silly story, in which I followed the Tangled plot, and added in some new scenes and moments specific to Dragon Age II. I'm sorry that it's unfinished, I don't think I have it in me to finish it, but I'm glad with what I have, and I think I covered a lot of the major bases. I hope you like it, because although it's a bit ridiculous and not very original, it warmed my heart to write it.

I've got a story to tell you. It isn't really about me, this time. I do cite Varric as my inspiration in this sparkling rendition, told by none other than me - Marian Hawke. This is the story of a man you may know, a man named Fenris. It begins where you may not expect. With the light of our mysterious moon. 

At some point long ago, and in a way I find hard to physically imagine, really - a dusting of magic-tinged moonlight must have slipped idly from the fringes of the Fade, beyond our mortal world. From this gift, grew a crystal, one you have heard of before - lyrium. It was a substance of pure magic, it had the power to heal, to recharge, to bless an individual with magic - but also, it could grant a power of unknown bounds, and unknown capabilities, to any who knew how to wield it. 

For centuries, it lay hidden in the wilderness, a lone crystal sprouting from the Earth, yet uncovered by people. Our lovely kingdom of Kirkwall began to form nearby. It was a peaceful city, and one of the only human kingdoms in Thedas where elves were treated as equals. In fact, it was ruled by an elven king and queen at this time. They were about to have their first child, an heir to the throne. But there were complications, and the people of this kingdom were willing to risk much for this peaceful rule, for their beloved leaders.

Scouts from the kingdom began to search everywhere for some kind of miracle. Something that could save the queen, so she could have her child, so the family could live on. Mages and templars and soldiers swept the wilderness for some proof of life-saving myths and legends, fabled magics concealed by the Earth.

But someone else had already discovered the moon's blessing, and harvested it for his own. Danarius, a wicked, power-hungry magister of the Tevinter Imperium. Once he discovered the lyrium crystal, he studied it, learned to gather its power as his own, to become an even more powerful mage. It was the perfect fuel for one such as him. Its natural gifts kept him young for hundreds of years, and not once did he share its rejuvenating qualities with another living soul. He created a secret incantation which could unlock its abilities for his selfish use. Isn't that kinda spooky?

Danarius began to be careless with his visits to the lyrium's location. He was afraid that if he removed it from its spot, it would lose its power. One day, he was so elated with the lyrium's effects, he forgot to perform the necessary enchantments to conceal it from other straying eyes. It was a major screw up for him. The crystal was discovered by Kirkwall's scouts, just in time to rescue the queen.

Removing the crystal from its resting place did not diminish its power. It was crushed into a powder, made into a digestible tonic, which the queen was able to drink. And it healed her, and allowed the birth to be successful. This action was based entirely on hope - there was no guarantee that it would work. That it wouldn't kill her.

Fenris was born, then. A baby elf, healthy, and happy. The blessing of the moon's lyrium crystal was vibrant in his silver hair, and shining metallic in the tattoos inked into his skin. This was something entirely unexpected, but wonderful, and the king and queen loved him dearly from the moment they saw him. To celebrate the blessing of the moon, and the saving grace of magic, the kingdom launched floating silver lanterns up into the sky, shining with moonglow. 

As baby Fenris began to grow acclimated to his new kingdom life, Danarius was searching desperately for his lost magical source. He had realized his mistake and sought to regain the plunder of everlasting life and magical ability beyond compare. He heard of the prince's unique magic, and knew its cause at once. He broke into the castle one fateful night, and attempted to cut the prince's hair. To his despair, it faded to a dark brown when severed from the magic imbued in Fenris's very being, and lost its fabled power. But Danarius had to have his treasure. So he stole the child, and fled the kingdom - untraceable in the unmarked fringes of the Tevinter Imperium.

The kingdom was heartbroken by the baby's disappearance. Soldiers searched far and wide for their prince, but could find no trace of him. Deep in the forests of Tevinter, in a tower, Danarius raised the child as his slave, and played a false father. 

Danarius had found his lyrium crystal once again. But now he had no room for mistakes. He was determined to keep it hidden. He told Fenris that the world outside was filled with horrible, selfish people, and that he kept him locked away to protect him and his gift. The elf accepted this as truth, because he knew no better - he found himself bound to the magister - and was isolated from all other influence.

The walls of the tower could not keep the world out. As it was well known throughout Thedas, each year, on his birthday, the king and queen of Kirkwall released thousands of lanterns into the sky, in hope that one day, their lost prince would return. And after being set apart from the world for eighteen years, the time would soon come when Fenris would at last meet an outsider.


	2. Refuge

Panting, Hawke leaned against the cool wall of the cave. Her blood pumping rapidly through her veins, breathless, shaking with adrenaline: she could get used to this.

And, it seemed she had no other choice, because now she was both an apostate and a thief.

Her light leather armor squeaked threateningly, and she froze in place as the sound of heavy footfalls and the clanking of armor drew nearer and nearer. Silhouettes passed the thick curtain of ivy, and she tried to somehow shrink against the stone wall in hope that she wouldn't be caught.

Previously, she'd been a member of Kirkwall's Circle of Magi: the Chantry's way of protecting and controlling mages from becoming destructive abominations. She understood the intent, she really did. The Circle was necessary. But in her selfish heart, she longed for freedom, for adventure. She had never wanted to be a mage in the first place-- for as long as she could remember, she'd dreamed of being a wealthy rogue, with legendary tales to her name. She had never desired the feeling of electricity racing down her arms, sending sparks to her fingertips. Blood magic was a joke, demons were the easy way out - she wanted to steal her fortunes herself.

She knew it wasn't fair to the rest of the Circle, the few she could tolerate there - but she couldn't help herself. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, she took it.

The leader of a guild of thieves, Athenril, was looking for someone on the inside with easy access to the royal treasury: which happened to be just down the hall a little from the Circle tower.

This shady woman wanted the crown of the lost prince, and Hawke mustered up the courage to be the one to strike a deal with her. The crown for her freedom, her phylactery destroyed and her trail hidden.

In the end, she allowed Athenril's end of the bargain to be held up, and then she fled with the treasure. With this crown, she'd be set for life: that is, if she could manage to escape the templars and the king's guard. Not to mention Aveline Vallen, Captain of the Guard, a sort of acquaintance of Hawke's. She'd helped her out before - she would notice the mage's disappearance from the circle, and of course, cross-reference that with the vanishing of the crown. 

She'd come all the way through the Free Marches, and she was certain she'd passed into another region by now, and she wasn't stopping anytime soon. Well, maybe for a bit of a rest. 

After a few minutes had passed and she could hear nothing but her heart thudding in her chest, Hawke assumed that she was no longer in pursuit by the authorities, at least for now.

Holding the lightweight bag close to her body, she slowly made her way through the damp passage. At the end of this small tunnel, there was a bright light, and once she reached it, she was stunned by the view beyond.

It was a vast and yet secluded clearing, flourishing with life, rolling hills and little rivers everywhere in sight. Woodland animals could be seen here and there, merrily frolicking in the lush scenery. 

But in the center of this hidden valley, there stood a dauntingly tall tower, looming darkly against the captivating scene around it.

Hawke hesitated, because although the scenery was whimsical and unexpected, she felt like something was wrong. She quickly brushed aside that instinct, because it was no time to be choosy about where she'd be hiding as a fugitive. Besides, the tower was most likely deserted, being as far away from civilization as it was.

Quickly, but with caution, she approached the tower and pulled a dagger from her belt, lodging it deeply into the cracks between the uneven stones. Although it was a long and exhausting climb, she had somehow managed to pull herself onto the ledge of what appeared to be a large window. Upon pushing open the shutters, she tumbled into the building and at last, breathed a sigh of relief.

She didn't even bother to observe the inside of the tower for dwellings: she yanked open the bag to reveal her prize, and stared at it in wonder. This crown was the one thing that would finally set her free.

"Finally," She breathed, a small smile spreading across her face.

Suddenly, there was a confused yell behind her, but before she could turn around, something hard whacked her in the back of the head and she collapsed, out cold.


	3. Master

Fenris stared down at the unconscious stranger on his floor and began to pace, gripping the frying pan with more and more force. He'd never been confronted with this kind of situation before.  
  
Danarius had told him a hundred times over how outsiders could not be trusted, and how unready he still was to face the world. It angered him, but he had been controlled for so long that he'd learned: it made no difference what he felt. He was to obey Danarius and ask no questions, defy no orders.  
  
His birthday was tomorrow. He had built up so much courage to ask one mercy of his master: for him to be allowed to leave the tower, to see the mysterious lights in the sky. They appeared every year on the exact day of his birth, like ghostlights in the sky, the same color as the markings sewn into his skin.   
  
He knew they weren't stars, he'd studied every constellation, and these were not the same. They meant something incredibly important to him, and he needed to be there. He was turning eighteen, after all, the age most people left their parents. Or in his case, his master.   
  
He didn't dare ask for that: only freedom for one night. But Danarius had been furious with such a bold request.   
  
Fenris paused beside the form of the person he'd knocked out in his panic, holding the frying pan in front of himself in fear. Danarius had taught him that not a soul beyond himself was trustworthy, and that no matter what, they'd all turn on him in the end to steal his power from him.   
  
But as she lay there on the carefully-cleaned stone floor, she appeared harmless.   
  
Carefully, Fenris turned the pan and used the handle to push back the ebony bangs that concealed the person's face. As he flinched back again just in case, he was surprised by what he saw.   
  
A soft complexion, dusty from the climb, delicate features. She looked peaceful. The sight was almost comforting. The only aspect of her that daunted the elf was the streak of red smeared across her nose. He hoped sincerely that it wasn't blood, but it very well could be.   
  
Just then, the stranger's eyes opened, and she stirred. She mumbled drowsily and tried to sit up.  
  
Fenris lost his composure and swung the pan again, and she fell back to her passive state. He hadn't known what else to do, he wasn't prepared to deal with the consequences of this person intruding on his tower. He was still fearful of what she may have been thinking when she determinedly climbed that wall and crept in.   
  
But: an idea sprang to mind. If Danarius were to return, and Fenris were to show that he was in control of the situation, that he'd contained this tough and yet gentle-looking woman, perhaps he could reassess his aptitude for leaving the tower.   
  
After much struggle, he managed to lift the the person and shove her rather clumsily into his closet, accidentally closing the door on her limbs a few times. She'd also fallen on him once, to which he'd responded to with a grunt. She was taller, and a human: Fenris was small, especially for an elf. But, the intruder had remained helpfully passed out during the process.   
  
He wiped his forehead, exhausted, but rather proud of himself. And then he spotted the satchel on the ground.   
  
Fenris snatched it up, and opened it: inside, was the stranger's plunder. A golden crown, embedded with precious jewels. Fenris didn't understand: he turned to the mirror beside the closet, and hooked it over his arm. It didn't look right.  
  
He peered through the largest gemstone, puzzling over the treasure's purpose. At last, he viewed his reflection, and set it atop his head. It fit perfectly: he might've said it suited him. He had been in the middle of a still-forming thought when a familiar voice echoed from below.  
  
"Fenris!"   
  
The elf jumped, and scrambled to stuff the satchel and the crown into a pot. "Just a moment, master!" He called back.  
  
Fenris unwound the rope that was wrapped over a post by the windowsill, and let it down for Danarius: he kept a neutral expression, as he usually did, despite his internal excitement.  
  
Danarius climbed the rope, and stepped over the windowsill, emerging into the tower. He looked as young and healthy as ever. "I see you've done your chores," He commented, with his ever-ominous smile, pulling his the cowl back from his head to reveal a permanently arrogant expression. "I brought you a surprise."  
  
Fenris stood patiently, his hands folded behind his back in polite stance. He nodded without a word.  
  
"Aren't you excited?" Danarius said, with an expectant raise of his eyebrows, as he began to unpack the food he'd brought. "I've gotten you the finest wine, for your birthday."  
  
"Oh, my birthday... Master, I wanted to talk to you about that." Fenris was straining to remain calm and collected as he'd been strictly taught, he so wished his plan would work.   
  
"Oh?" Danarius frowned, his anger from before clearly starting to resurface, as he suspected what he was going say. Fenris shifted his weight.  
  
"You know I don't like leaving after a fight, especially when I've done absolutely nothing wrong." His tone was sharp and trivializing, making Fenris feel like a fool.   
  
"I have thought about what you said earlier, and..." The elf looked at his feet, his hands becoming fists in his nervousness. He found it so difficult to stand up to Danarius, even with simple, conversational words. But he wanted this so much, he was willing to put himself in a vulnerable position for a chance to get it.  
  
"I hope you're not still talking about moon," Danarius rolled his eyes, and gave him a stern stare. He began to use his magic to prepare a meal.  
  
"I know you think that I am not adequate enough to brave the wilds..." He began, eyes fixed on Danarius's flame-ignited hands. A very powerful magister, another reason Fenris was forced into submission. And still, he pressed on.  
  
"Oh, I know you aren't," Danarius chuckled dryly, without a glance in his direction. It stung a little.  
  
"If you could see..." He continued, inching towards the closet.  
  
"We're done talking about this," Danarius warned, as the water began to boil.  
  
"But you have not..." He said, his hand on the chair, prepared to reveal his achievement.   
  
"Fenris," He turned to glare at him.  
  
"Master, if..."  
  
Danarius stood over him, expression dark. The air in the tower went tense with static electricity for a moment. His voice boomed. "Enough, Fenris!" His eyes were daggers. "You are not leaving this tower. Ever!"   
  
Fenris winced and drew his hands back together. His hope vanished, and he knew then that he could not be convinced. He knelt in defeat, breathing a shaky sigh. "Yes, master."   
  
As if nothing had happened, Danarius finished cooking, ignoring the slave's weariness.  
  
"I must be off, I have an important meeting to attend to, with Hadriana. It will take three days."   
  
Fenris nodded silently, trying to drain the despair from his expression as he cleaned the kitchen.   
  
"There is enough food for you, you have plenty to do. You will be alright on your own, won't you?" He feigned caring in his expression, to inspire a manipulative guilt in Fenris if he ever thought to disobey. "And you are aware of the dangers I shield you from." He attempted to sound noble, as if he'd always been doing the elf a great service by locking him up.  
  
"Yes," Fenris answered monotonously, as he buttoned Danarius's cloak for him. "Safe journey, master."  
  
Danarius smiled in a twisted admiration. He possessively touched the silver-white of Fenris's hair - to anyone, it would have been clear that it was the power he would miss, not the elf it was tied to. "I will see you in three days, my little wolf."   
  
And then he slid down the rope, waving as he disappeared into the curtain of leaves that lead to whatever world was beyond that valley.  
  
As soon as he was out of sight, Fenris hurried to the closet, and stared at it for a few moments, taking a deep breath. How was he to deal with the person he had stashed in here? His spirits were dampened now: he decided he was ready for any danger.  
  
He pulled open the door, and the woman collapsed from the closet, falling into a heap.   
  
Yet more hard work, and he'd somehow tied her to a chair, and then stood behind his dresser with the frying pan, waiting for her to wake up. 


	4. Prisoner

Hawke blinked as she came to. It didn't take long to realize she was restrained. Through her bleary-eyed vision, she vaguely recognized the tower she was in as the one she'd decided to use as a hideout. And then...someone had jumped her. She squirmed against the ropes, searching whoever taken her prisoner.  
  
She saw a movement in the shadows.   
  
"Resisting would be... futile," A low, gravely voice said from somewhere, but it contradicted itself by sounding very unsure.   
  
"Huh?" She responded. Her head ached, everything was fuzzy.   
  
"I know why you have come," It continued, gaining momentum. "And I have no fear of you."  
  
"What?" Hawke was still too slow to understand what was going on.  
  
At last, the owner of the voice stepped out from the darkness. He was an elf, with titanium white hair, and eyes that were huge and a deep, captivating green. His skin was tan, and covered in the most unusual, beautiful silver markings. He wore plated armor made of spirit hide, and heavy gauntlets, but he was nearly barefoot.  
  
Hawke smirked almost right away; he was gorgeous.   
  
"Who are you, and how did you find this place?" He asked boldly, raising his chin.   
  
She raised an eyebrow, taking in how the light hit him. When she did not answer right away, he repeated the question more forcefully.   
  
"I know not who you are, nor how I came to find you: but may I just say," She paused. "Hey," Her voice was smooth and flirtatious. "How ya doin'? The name's Marian Hawke. How's your day going?"   
  
Her look of amusement and strange greeting caused Fenris to look confused, and then he scowled. "Who else knows my location, Marian Hawke?" He repeated her name back to her bitterly. He approached her fearlessly, holding his frying pan out like a weapon, threatening her.  
  
"Alright, Broody--" Hawke began casually.  
  
"Fenris," He corrected, narrowing his eyes at her.  
  
"Sure. Here's my situation," She explained, rolling her shoulders back. "I was having an ordeal, gallivanting through this lovely forest of yours, and -- oh, wait. Oh no. Where is my bag?" She struggled in her bonds, craning her neck every which way to see if it was anywhere nearby. She met Fenris's eyes with panic and desperation.   
  
"I've hidden it, somewhere your unknowing eyes will never find it," Fenris answered, circling her.  
  
She continued to sweep the room, her eyes landing on a chest not too far from the chair. "It's in that chest, isn't it?"   
  
Everything went black again.


	5. Proposition

Fenris awoke her this time by tossing a pillow at her.  
  
Hawke scoffed, rubbing her ear against her shoulder as she felt a bump forming on her head. Attractive, but annoying. She wanted to hurry up and get out of this mess, so she could get rich. "Would you quit with the bonking, please?"  
  
"Now it's hidden where you'll never find it," Fenris said, crossing his arms proudly. Then his face went serious again. "So what is it you want with my hair? To cut it?" He accused.  
  
"What?" Hawke asked. What a weird question.   
  
"And my skin? You want to sell it?" He gritted his teeth, aiming the pan at her.  
  
Really weird. "No! Listen, I'm not interested in you at all!" She said frantically, wiggling so the chair shook.   
  
Fenris frowned. That wasn't what he expected. "You aren't?"  
  
"Maker's breath, why on earth would I want to do either of those things? Look, I was being chased, I saw a tower, I climbed it. That's all!" She was thoroughly confused with what she'd ended up in here, but she hoped she could convince this odd little elf man to let her go.  
  
Fenris considered. She could be lying. But, the crown, her clear denial. She was a thief, who had only needed a place to hide. It was likely. "And you're...telling the truth?" He asked, with uncertainty.  
  
"Yes!" She nodded quickly. She tried to summon a fire spell to burn the ropes, but that really wasn't her forte. Instead it just looked like she was having a fit.  
  
Fenris became lost in thought. If she was being honest, then he could blackmail her into taking him to see the lights. Trusting her may be his only chance. He did believe he had some capability: maybe he could hold her off if she decided to turn on him. Everything Danarius taught him to fear...he was facing it now. Could his will to follow his dream overpower his anxieties?  
  
"Okay, Marian Hawke," He said slowly. "I'm willing to offer you a compromise." His expression remained detached and businesslike.  
  
"A compromise?" Hawke couldn't keep up with this crazy chain of events.  
  
"Look over here. Do you know what these are?" He said, striding over to the fireplace. He climbed effortlessly to the mantel, where he pulled aside a curtain to reveal a painting he'd made of the silver lights cascading down the horizon of the night sky. He was slightly embarrassed of it, so he stood in front of the place where he'd painted a smaller version of himself, gazing up at the sky in wonder. On his way there, he indirectly pulled on the rope that kept Hawke tied, causing the chair to fall over, taking her with it.  
  
She exclaimed, hanging sideways against the arm of the chair. She hissed at the bruises she knew she'd have soon, and then continued to listen to his proposition. Regrettably, it might be her only way out of this.  
  
"You mean the lantern thing they do for the prince?" She asked in a muffled voice, from what she had gathered from the rather well-done artwork. Did he do that? She began to wonder about many of this situation's traits. Handsome elf hermit, stuck in a tower? Afraid people were going to steal his skin and whatnot? Fascination with the lights?   
  
"Lanterns. I knew they weren't just the moon!" Fenris said thoughtfully, aside to himself. And then he continued speaking in his deep voice, telling her what he offered. "Well, tomorrow evening they will light the night sky with these lanterns. You will act as my guide, take me there, and return me to my home, safely." He didn't like that last part, but he feared what would happen if he didn't come back by the time the magister returned. "Then, and only then, will I return your satchel to you. That is my deal."  
  
Hawke shifted uncomfortably in her compromising position. It looked like she wouldn't be using this as her way out. "Yeah, I can't do that. The kingdom and I aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. So I won't be taking you anywhere." She didn't mention that the templars were on her tail, as well.  
  
Fenris hopped gracefully down from the ledge, his face hardening with frustration, eyes burning. He needed this to work. With one hand, he grabbed hold of the back of the chair and held Hawke upright, his face close to hers as he stared menacingly. He was stronger than he looked, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. Hawke nearly yelped.  
  
"Something brought you here, Marian Hawke. Call it what you will: fate, destiny..." He began, tilting his head to the side, as his grip tightened on the handle of the frying pan.   
  
Although she was intimidated, Hawke deadpanned, as this became more and more difficult to get out of. "A redhead," She said dully, referring to her chase with Aveline earlier.  
  
"So I have made the decision to trust you," Fenris continued bitterly.  
  
"A horrible decision, really." She snorted.   
  
"But trust me when I tell you this," He pulled the chair closer with a jerk, and she fell forward, still tightly bound. She winced, cursing under her breath. "Andraste's ass."   
  
"You can tear this tower apart, brick by brick, but without my help, you will never find your special bag," He growled, eyes locked to hers.   
  
"Alright. Let me get this straight," Hawke evaluated. She still had some of the influence here, even hanging halfway out of the chair, unable to move. "I take you to see the lanterns, bring you back home, and you'll give me back my bag?"  
  
"I promise," Fenris nodded. Hawke didn't seem to believe it, especially from how edgy he'd just been.  
  
"And when I promise something, I never, ever break that promise," Fenris reassured sharply, certain of his own loyalty.  
  
Hawke still needed convincing.  
  
"Ever!" He added, his jaw tightening.  
  
"Alright, listen. I don't want to have to do this. But you leave me no choice. Here comes the smolder." Hawke shifted her expression to stare at him alluringly, pouting her lips and batting her eyelashes.   
  
She was beautiful, and the look she was giving him only enhanced her endearing features, but Fenris remained unmoved, at least on the surface. He glowered at her sternly.   
  
"This is kind of an off day for me," Hawke admitted. "This doesn't normally happen." Usually, she could get out of all kinds of situations by shooting a wink at the templar watching over her. It seemed she could not bend grumpy elf men to her will, not the same way. She thought for a second, realizing she was coming to the end of her arguments. And he was not a pushover.  
  
"Fine, I'll take you to see the lanterns!" She said with a sigh. She would've pinched the bridge of her nose, if her hands had been free.   
  
Fenris's face lit up with delight, containing a wide smile. He let go of the chair in his excitement, and Hawke fell on her face.


	6. Freedom

Hawke was halfway down the tower already, and Fenris was still perching on the window's edge, looking down with wide eyes.  
  
"You comin', Broody?" She called, as she held the rope and rappelled down the stone face of the tower. She reached the ground, and put her hands on her hips, squinting up at him in the sunlight. Better to get this over with as fast as she could.  
  
The elf was fighting with himself in his head, thinking of what could happen if he was found out. He could see it all, he'd always been able to: but now, he could live it. He found Hawke's impatient stance, her eyebrows raised, and forced himself to decide.  
  
In the flurry of a moment, he took the rope with his metal-encased hands, and wrapped himself around it. He was sliding towards the ground, losing the altitude he was so used to. He shouldn't, the trouble he'd be in - but here he was, dangling with his feet on the knot at the bottom of the rope. He was so close.  
  
Carefully, he extended his leg to put his toes in the grass. Hawke looked on curiously. Apparently, he'd never left. That confirmed her hermit suspicions.   
  
Fenris let go of the rope and took his first steps on the earthen ground, wonder spreading across his face. He felt the warm summer breeze, and was hit with the full impact of his freedom. It filled him with excitement as he'd never felt before. His heart pounded as he let loose his inhibitions and sprinted across the clearing, arms spread wide. He smiled, genuinely, his feet splashing through a stream. He watched a flock of birds fly through a break in the trees, into the cornflower blue sky.   
  
Hawke chuckled as she followed at a leisurely pace, meeting with him at the discreet cave that lead to the exit. His joy was quite adorable, and from the way he acted before, she wouldn't have guessed he was capable of such pure happiness.  
  
Fenris had exhausted his initial burst of energy by the time he reached the cave, and put himself back together. Hawke was laughing, he noticed. He straightened up, and plucked the flowers out of his white hair, clearing his throat as he minimized his smile. "Lead on," He said pleasantly to her, all the same, gesturing for her to enter first through the curtain of ivy, where he'd seen his master come and go so often.   
  
Hawke nodded, slightly smirking as she passed through. Even if time-consuming, this could be entertaining.


	7. Journey

Fenris couldn't believe he'd done this. Around every corner, was a new thing he'd never seen before, only read about in his books. He made Hawke stop several times so he could climb a tree, pick a rare herb, observed an animal. He didn't show his true feelings again, like he had at first, but she could see the way he took in every detail. It was cute, yes, but the exploration was slowing down their already-long passage to Kirkwall, and Hawke was growing anxious.   
  
Sometimes, he would mumble to himself, loud enough that she could hear. So far, he'd been switching between "This is the best day of my life" and "Danarius is going to slaughter me". He would look content, and then miserable, until eventually he hunched over by a boulder, at the base of a hill. He curled into a ball, burying his face into his knees, so only the snow-white top of his head could be seen, flanked by the pointed tips of his ears.  
  
Hawke stood beside him, crossing her arms, her expression filled with boredom. Not as entertaining as she'd initially thought. She was starting to plot ways to both escape this pointlessly long journey and steal her treasure back, so she could get paid and start building her life as a very rich adventurer.  
  
"You know, I can't help but notice that you're a bit tumultuous over this," She commented, and Fenris looked up, his eyes watery.   
  
"Now, I'm only picking up flashes of the story here, of course," She leaned on a larger boulder alongside him. "Overprotective....father?" She speculated, and Fenris's look of distaste told her that wasn't the case. "Okay, guardian, keeper, or something. Forbidden journey, this is serious stuff. But let me ease your conscience."  
  
Fenris rubbed his eyes and turned towards her, listening.  
  
"This is part of growing up! A little rebellion, a little adventure, that's good, healthy even!" She gestured animatedly.   
  
"Is it?" Fenris asked, his brow furrowing. It wasn't Danarius's well-being he was really concerned about, not more than a little. It was his treatment, the aftermath of this endeavor, which sparked an emotional rollercoaster in his mind.   
  
"Yes! I know this. I've been there. You're way over-thinking, trust me. Does Danarius deserve it? Maybe. Would this break his heart and crush his soul? Probably. And that's why you've just got to do it." She looked over him with authority, like she knew what she was talking about.   
  
"Break his heart?" Fenris repeated, confused.  
  
"In half."  
  
"Crush his soul?" It didn't seem likely.   
  
"Like a berry." Hawke squished a berry between her fingers to emphasize her point.   
  
Fenris thought back to the look of almost-affection that Danarius had given him on his way out. Naive, unknowing - the magister's mind games would work on the inexperienced elf.   
  
"He might be, you're right," Fenris's expression was one of horror as he thought of what terrible magic his master may put to use to find him, to punish him, if he would be so affected.  
  
"I am, aren't I? Oh, bother," Hawke mimed being troubled by this. She truly was tired of hearing about this inner conflict, and was setting out to put it to an end. "Alright, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm letting you out of the compromise," She helped Fenris stand, putting her arm around him as if to comfort him.  
  
"What?" Fenris grumbled, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably where her arm draped over him.  
  
"That's right. But don't thank me. Let's just turn around and get you back to your tower. Here's your pan, and your - is this wine? you had this all along? - Anyway, I get back my bag, you get back a protective relationship based on mutual, um, trust, and bam! We part ways as unlikely friends."  
  
Fenris snarled, disgusted as he re-evaluated his relationship with the magister. He swallowed his guilt: he wanted him to feel betrayed, and he wanted to see the Maker-damned lights. "No! I am seeing the lanterns!" He protested, turning to face Hawke, clutching his belongings to his chestplate.  
  
"Oh, come on!" Hawke broke her act, frustration seeping into her expression. This was impossible. "What is going to take to get my blighted bag back?"  
  
"I will use this," Fenris warned, holding the frying pan out to her, eyes narrowed.  
  
Suddenly, a ruffling sound came from a nearby thicket. Twigs snapped, the bush shook violently. Fenris ducked behind Hawke, holding one arm out with his weapon, gripping the cloth of her mercenary coat. He gasped quietly, but she still heard. "Is it blood mages? Demons? Thugs? Have they come for me?" He exclaimed in panic.   
  
A cat crawled out of the foliage and meowed at them. Fenris peeked around Hawke's hair.  
  
"Stay calm. It can probably smell fear," She said sarcastically, with a huff.   
  
"Ser Pounce-a-lot!" A voice followed, and Hawke too grew defensive, her mind racing to come up with an escape plan.   
  
Seconds later, a man emerged from the trees, dusting leaves and rubble from his clothes. "Ah, there you are." He stooped to pick up the cat and place it on his shoulder, and then he noticed the two staring at him.  
  
"Uh, Hello!" He greeted them with a smile. A staff was strapped to his back, and he wore a renegade coat. His jaw was covered in thin stubble, his eyes were honey-brown and warm. His hair was a similar color, and tied back into a small ponytail. In one of his ears was a small golden earring.  
  
"He's a mage!" Fenris whispered in alarm, already getting bad vibes from him.   
  
Hawke smirked. Another cute one, possibly worth the trouble. "Hi," She said, offering her hand. He shook it. "I'm Hawke, this is Fenris," She introduced. The elf nudged her with his frying pan. She ignored him.  
  
"Anders," The man replied. "Where are you headed?"  
  
"Someplace to eat. You hungry, Fenris?" Hawke chuckled teasingly. He didn't respond.  
  
"Oh! I know a great place, just down the road a little."  
  
Hawke knew of it already; it was part of her latest scheme. "Alright! Let's go."  
  
Anders, who had a friendly disposition, nodded and set off through the forest, Hawke following with a skip in her step, and Fenris stalking after them.


	8. Tavern

"I know it's around here, somewhere," Anders said, shielding his eyes from the midday sun as he peered through the trees. Ser Pounce-a-lot balanced on his shoulder.   
  
"Ah, there it is, the Blooming Rose!" Hawke pointed to the sign, down the path a ways. They were somewhere in Tantervale by now.   
  
Fenris's expression was flat, he'd been trailing along behind them the past hour, while they chattered. He didn't understand why the mage had to come with them: it wasn't part of the deal. And, he really disliked this man's attitude. He never once did a spell, but he still had the ability to, and this made the elf very jumpy.   
  
Hawke turned to face Fenris. "Don't worry, very gentle place, perfect for you," She said, hiding her deception. "You like roses, don't you?" Her gaze flickered to the red blossoms he had tucked into his belt, he'd picked them somewhere along the way. Odd, for the way he radiated unfriendly coldness, but cute. She smiled. "Don't want you getting frightened and giving up on this whole ordeal, now, do we?"   
  
He glowered at her, sensing she was up to something.  
  
When they arrived, Anders threw open the pub door, and was quickly greeted by a group of friends, who he joined.   
  
"Varric, your finest table, please!" Hawke announced upon entrance. It seemed she was recognized by many of the patrons.   
  
It was a highly unorthodox establishment, full of fugitives and runaways and rejects. Bandits, smugglers, mercenaries, apostates. So many apostates. Danarius had taught Fenris, indirectly - by the way he used his powers to frighten his slave into listening to him - to fear magic of all kinds, sometimes even his own abilities.   
  
Fenris concealed a gasp of terror, hugging his frying pan and his wine for safety.   
  
"What are you getting? Because to me, that smells part bad alcohol, another part really bad alcohol. And, just feel that illegal magic in the air!" She breathed in and out happily. "Your thoughts?"  
  
"Those are a lot of tattoos," Someone commented. She was a meek-looking elf mage, with her own Dalish markings, performing some kind of dark ritual with a mirror.   
  
"Yeah, my friend here, he's real inked up. Is that blood magic you're doing there? Broody, look at this. Look at all the blood she's got on her mirror! That, serah, is a lot of blood." Hawke carried on with pep in her step, pointing out various aspects of the joint that were bound to spook Fenris out of wanting to go any further. Then, he'd hand over the satchel and stay in his tower, where he probably belonged.  
  
He didn't say anything, he only scowled, looking beyond irritated at his guide's turn of loyalty.   
  
"Hey, you don't look so good, Broody," She observed how he'd gone rather pale in the face, at least for his olive skin tone. "Maybe we should get you back, call it a day. Probably better off. This is a highly rated joint, after all," There wasn't a huger lie. "And if you can't handle this place, well, maybe you should be back in your tower."   
  
Just then, the pub door slammed shut, and a busty, pirate-like woman approached Hawke. She was very pretty, and Hawke smiled at her snarkily. But before she could get a clever line out, the woman held a poster up to her face.   
  
"Is this you?" She accused, a hand on her hip. It was a 'wanted' poster of Hawke, for stealing the crown and ditching the Circle, no doubt. Hawke squinted at it. "They just can't get my war paint right," She groaned.   
  
"Oh, that's her, alright!" The bartender said.  
  
"Come on, Varric!" Hawke complained.  
  
"Isabela, get some guards! That reward will buy me a new strap for Bianca."  
  
"I could use the money," The elven blood mage said feebly.  
  
"What about me, Merrill? I'm broke! I literally live in the sewer," Anders piped up.  
  
The four of them grabbed Hawke, who loudly protested, and started arguing over who got to turn her in.  
  
Fenris brooded for a moment, allowing it to happen. She deserved it, for tricking him. Eventually, he reminded himself that he needed her to take him to Kirkwall. He interjected over the clamor. "Please, stop," He commanded, his voice dull.   
  
"We can work this out!" Hawke laughed nervously.  
  
"Please, leave her alone," Fenris grumbled. "Give me back my person!" He managed to find Hawke's hand flailing about, and grabbed it, tugging on it. It didn't seem to help.  
  
"Not my war paint!" She shrieked, as someone's hand smudged across her face.   
  
Fenris was left with only one option. He whacked the nearest thug with his pan. There was a bang, and then silence.  
  
"Put her down!" He growled.   
  
Isabela, her name supposedly was, turned to him, her glare sharper than a sword.   
  
Fenris paused, nervous now under all the onlookers. But he was also very angry at them for their greedy motives - especially Hawke's.   
  
"I don't know where I am, and I need her to take me to see the lanterns because I've been dreaming about them my entire life! Haven't any of you ever had a dream?"  
  
Isabela looked down at him fiercely, taking a step towards him. He braced himself. But then, her expression softened at his brave, honest proclamation.  
  
"I....had a dream once." She looked wistfully into the middle-distance.  
  
Fenris blinked.  
  
She climbed to stand on a table. "I used to be Queen of the Eastern Seas. I had a ship, a crew...Castillon ruined all of that for me! Now, I just want to be on the ocean again, sailing, plundering, adventuring. I've got a dream!" She threw her head back and took a long swig of her drink.   
  
Surprisingly, her notion received many cheers from the patrons. Hawke was taken aback by the effect, and she was glad to be released, gasping for air. Merrill then took the floor.   
  
She was quiet at first, but as her passion for her cause grew, she sounded more profound. "I'm stuck with my Dalish clan... they don't approve of my blood magic, they are hostile towards me... I don't want to be like Marethari, I want to go to the kingdom, somewhere new, safely. I want to explore different ways than that of my culture. I've got a dream!"  
  
The cheers were louder this time, as drinks began to be poured all around. More were being called on to share their dreams.  
  
Anders stood on the stage next, his face lit up with excitement.  
  
Fenris grumbled, anxious that he might start preaching about starting a mage rebellion. Especially because of the way his face started glowing a shocking blue.  
  
Instead, he scolded himself to silence someone named "Justice", and shouted something about wanting to rule a kingdom of cats. "I've got a dream!" He yelled the now-trending statement. The cheers doubled, and scattered singing erupted from the crowd. Fenris watched from a safe distance, stunned by what he'd started.  
  
"What about you?" Isabela nudged Hawke, who looked on, impatient.   
  
"I'm sorry, me?" She seemed alarmed.  
  
"What's your dream?" Merrill asked.  
  
"No, no no. Sorry, I don't do public speaking." She crossed her arms stubbornly.  
  
Every sword, dagger, and stave in the pub was pointed at her then.  
  
"Hawke, you're no fun," Varric chided as he filled glasses with foamy beer.   
  
Panicked, Hawke leaped to the stage, into the spotlight, plastering on a smile. "I've got dreams, like you, I swear! Mostly about somewhere tropical, a place I own, peaceful, luxurious, deserted. Surrounded by enormous piles of gold!" She grinned.  
  
The crowd seemed to disapprove of that one, but the mead kept flowing, and the songs did not stop.   
  
Eventually, it came back around to Fenris. He didn't want to be the center of attention, either, but he'd started all this, so he really had no choice. He was encouraged onto the stage as the music swelled. He cleared his throat, looking at his feet, as everyone looked at him expectantly.  
  
"Well, um, I just want to see the floating lanterns, because I've always wanted to, since I was little, but I was never allowed. I haven't seen the world, but now I have the chance. I'm glad I left my tower," He shrugged.  
  
That won the loudest jeers of all, and somebody popped open his bottle of wine. The happy noise carried on for some time, and Fenris even warmed up to laughter as he sipped his drink. Hawke seemed less enthused, realizing they were going to be there for a while, but she gulped a pint of something alcoholic anyway.  
  
All the joyful chortling eventually came to an end, as the door was suddenly kicked down with a thud. Armored figures stood in the doorway, and then shoved their way through. It was the templars: they'd found the pub.  
  
"Where's Hawke? Where is she!" Knight-Commander Meredith stormed in, followed closely by Knight-Captain Cullen and Guard Captain Aveline. "I know she's in here somewhere!" The redhead stepped forward. "Find her, turn this place inside-out if you have to!"  
  
Hawke was hiding under a table, holding her breath, mentally cussing in two different languages at the same time. She was also tipsy by this point, making everything spin and seem blurry. She'd caught sight of Athenril, handcuffed behind the Guard Captain. She didn't even want to think about the templars. At least First Enchancer Orsino wasn't with them. She was tight with him, she couldn't imagine how disappointed he'd be with her.   
  
Hawke hiccuped loudly as Isabela snagged her by her collar, dragging her to a secret passage at the back of the pub. Fenris was there, too, stone-faced. He'd couldn't tell the templars from the guards, so at least he hadn't made that connection yet. Either way, Hawke got captured, he'd be on his own, and he'd started all this uproar just to make sure he wouldn't have to be.  
  
"Go, live your dream, sweet thing," Isabela smiled as she pulled the lever to reveal the escape route, gesturing for them to venture into the dark passageway.   
  
"I will!" Hawke said, and stumbled drunkenly down the steps. She was glad they were finally getting out of there, even if it meant the guards would be after them.  
  
Isabela made a displeased expression. "I meant you," She said to Fenris, handing him what was left of his bottle of wine, leaning down to kiss his cheek.  
  
He frowned, and blushed, then nodded gratefully, with a small smile. "Thank you." Then he followed after Hawke, catching her arm before she fell into the wall. 


	9. Chase

After a while of walking, Hawke had sobered up considerably. "Well, I've got to say, I didn't you know you had it in you back there. That was pretty impressive."   
  
Fenris didn't seem too shocked by it, although he too hadn't expected it to work. "I know," He said proudly, and then coughed.  
  
"I know." He repeated it in a more modest tone. Now that they were past another roadblock - and no mages were with them - he was comfortable again. As much as he could be with this stranger, under the radar of the palace guard, anyway.   
  
He was growing increasingly curious about where Hawke came from, why she was a fugitive. He was interested, and he wasn't really sure why.  
  
"So, Hawke, where are you from?" He asked, trying to ask casually, rather than give away that he truly cared for the answer.  
  
"Woah there. Sorry, Broody, I don't do backstory," Hawke said, holding her hands up defensively. That was a red flag. Fenris frowned again. But, she angled herself towards him as she walked. "Although, I am becoming very interested in yours. Now, I know I'm not supposed to mention the hair," She chuckled in amusement.  
  
"Nope," He answered, a slight smirk creeping over his lips.  
  
"Or the tattoos."  
  
"Uh-uh." He walked a little taller.  
  
"Frankly, I'm too afraid to ask about the parent,"  
  
"Magister," He amended.  
  
"Ah, I see. Tevinter," She added this to her databank of knowledge about the elf. The connotation of him being trapped in the tower was showing itself to be increasingly negative. She felt a little bad for repeatedly trying to con him into going back. She decided to pry a little more.  
  
"Here's my question, though. If you wanted to see the lanterns so badly, why haven't you gone before?"   
  
Fenris rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, despite how the metal scratched at his skin. "Well..." How was he to explain what growing up with Danarius was like? That he'd always been taught that he was wrong, and his master was right. Learning to fear magic, because of how he wielded it. The way the idea of the lights seemed to irritate Danarius like nothing else. He was...grateful, to say the very least....for the protection? The world was overwhelming, and terrifying, but wonderful, interesting. He hadn't died yet...  
  
Before he could get through his jumbled thoughts, he heard the approaching footsteps of the guardsmen, in hot pursuit. It seemed like the patrons hadn't stalled for nearly long enough. Key word: yet.  
  
"Hawke!" Aveline's voice thundered down the cavern.   
  
"Run," The elf suggested, meeting his guide's eyes.   
  
Hawke's veins thrummed with adrenaline. It didn't take more than that for her to take off.   
  
The two of them sprinted until they came to emerged on a cliff at the end of the tunnel, panting. Trapped, nowhere to hide.  
  
Aveline arrived with her guardsmen, shield and sword at the ready. She wore a smile of victory.  
  
"Who's that?" Fenris asked, confused by the personal connection the two of them seemed to have.   
  
"She doesn't like me," Hawke replied, teeth clenched, as she hurried to pull together a plan. They stood back to back, each facing one side of the cliff.   
  
Then the Knight-Commander burst out of the tunnel, followed by her Knight-Captain. She struck even more fear into the fugitive's heart.  
  
"And that?" Fenris growled, holding out his frying pan.   
  
"They don't like me either," She answered shrilly, trying not to accidentally step off the edge of the cliff.  
  
Athenril appeared, hurling a dagger that just barely missed Hawke's ear. She squeaked. Panicking, she linked an arm with Fenris. If she was going, he was coming down with her - he was he only one who knew the location of her satchel. Of course, at the worst possible moment, a little voice in her head pointed out that maybe, she had ulterior motives.  
  
"And her?!" Fenris demanded to know, gesturing at the newest addition to their list of problems, making a gruff noise as he was pressed closer to Hawke. He gripped her arm equally, in his fear.  
  
"Let's just assume that everyone here doesn't like me!" Hawke screamed, eyes darting around the scene for some opportunity for escape.  
  
"I've waited a long time for this!" Aveline declared, charging forward with no mercy.  
  
Fenris had an idea. He shoved Hawke off him, and unhooked his belt.   
  
"Why are you stripping at time like this?!" Hawke yelled incredulously. Not that she'd complain at any other moment.  
  
He huffed and rolled his eyes at her, swinging the belt to catch on a piece of wood that jutted from the dam wall.  
  
Once it was stable, he handed Hawke his frying pan and regrettably, tossed his wine bottle at the enemy. Then he closed his eyes and held on, free-falling off the edge.   
  
"What?!" Hawke exclaimed, as she flailed the frying pan at swords that swung at her, and the shields that tried to knock her off balance. "Fenris!" She yelled desperately, unable to tell if he'd made it or not.   
  
It was the first time she used his actual name. She was only managing to not get skewered because she refused to use her mage abilities, and the bottle of wine had hit a few templars, slowing the onslaught. Guardsmen were also slipping in the liquid, and tripping on the bits of glass. The frying pan was also serving as a rather helpful weapon, she used it to block Aveline's longsword.  
  
Fenris was hanging on the edge of the dam. He'd never been more scared in his life: the drop below was daunting and sudden. He balanced on a thin ledge, unhooking his belt from the wood, and clamping it between his teeth as he shimmied to the cliff on the other side of the quarry.  
  
Hawke managed a glance in his direction, and relief washed over like an unexpected tidal wave as she realized he was okay. And, he was throwing his belt at her.  
  
Temporarily stunning Aveline by hitting her with the pan, Hawke held a free hand up to catch it. Instead, she caught it with her face. Luckily, she snagged it before it tumbled out of reach: and she whipped it, managing to whack Athenril before she swung it just like Fenris had.  
  
Except, her aim wasn't quite as exact, and she missed the first time. "Flames!" She roared, as Aveline, Athenril, and Meredith recovered, and lunged at her at the same time. The pan was flicked out of her hand, and it toppled over the cliff. She exhaled heavily, and tossed the belt again, and this time, it caught. She let herself fall backward, saluting at her enemies before she swung.  
  
Then she screamed the whole way. Glancing frantically, she noticed that Fenris was nowhere to be seen on the opposite cliff. Instead, he was down in the bottom of the quarry, holding the frying pan, waving his arms and trying to get her attention. How had he got there? She turned back to the dam, and realized that a crack was splitting down the middle of the wall. A huge rock formation was shaking nearby, threatening to tumble over on them.   
  
It was just one thing after another, wasn't it?   
  
Fenris gestured for her to let go. She shook her head vigorously. Why the hell would she do that. He did it again, more insistent this time. Hawke deadpanned as the wooden wall split in front of her. It could not possibly get any worse.  
  
As the water began to spurt, seconds from gushing out and swallowing her whole, she let go. She had nothing left to lose.   
  
Fenris spread his arms open, standing where he expected she'd land.   
  
Good thing he'd predicted spot-on. She smashed right into him. They landed in a pile, groaning from the way they were bent together. At least breaking her fall had worked.  
  
He pushed her off of him as he tried to blink back the stars he saw, vaguely making out that the guards and the templars were using ropes to travel down to the quarry where they were, Athenril barely avoiding them as she too raced toward them.  
  
"Venhedis!" Fenris snarled in Tevene, as the rock formation slowly began to fall, the water pouring around it, the enemy yards away.  
  
Hawke was almost unconscious, looking like she'd broken something. The blood was definitely spilling from somewhere. But he didn't have time to figure out where, yet. "Get up, get up!" He shook her violently as he stood, despite how his limbs protested. They were about to be crushed, or drowned, or captured. Or worse.  
  
Hawke clung to him as she got to her feet, exclaiming in pain and almost collapsing on him again. He snagged her arm and ran as fast as he could, dragging her behind him, catching sight of a small opening up ahead. Another cave.  
  
But it was the only hope. Hawke recovered, barely, and started running on her own, her breath ragged. They dove into the dark entrance, seconds before the rock formation slammed right up against it, trapping them in as the quarry flooded with water.

They ran to higher ground in the cave, as the water squirted in through cracks in the rock, filling the tight space slowly but surely.   
  
As they panicked, waving their arms around, tripping, trying to catch their breath, they found they were at a dead end, chest-deep in cold water.  
  
Hawke held onto a boulder to keep from being submerged. She had many injuries, and they burned like fire.   
  
Fenris dove under, and then returned to breathe, several times, searching for a way out. "It's no use," He rasped hopelessly. "I can't see anything."  
  
He was about to try again when Hawke caught him by his collar, with the only hand that didn't feel snapped in half.  
"Hey, there's no point. It's pitch black down there," She choked out.   
  
"This is all my fault," Fenris said brokenly, his green eyes swimming. "I never should have done this." He bit his lip to keep the tears back. "I'm sorry, Hawke."  
  
"I'm a mage,"   
  
"What?"   
  
"I'm a mage," She said again, her ice-blue eyes dark and sad. "I just thought you should know."  
  
He didn't even care in that moment. "I have magic skin that glows," He said, with a depressing smile.  
  
"What?"

Fenris's eyes widened suddenly, as the water rose to their necks. It...just might work.  
  
He sang something quickly, in Tevene, while Hawke watched, befuddled. They both took deep gasps of air as the water rose above their heads. Fenris finished the incantation underwater, and suddenly, his tattoos ignited all at once in a pale, bright blue, along with his blinding white hair.   
  
Hawke almost lost her storage of air as she watched the phenomenon. His entire body was illuminated, and he sliced his arms through the water. A place where the water was draining through smaller rocks drew his eye, and he dove towards it without another thought. His lungs burned as oxygen bubbles rose through the water.  
  
Hawke saw what he was gesturing at, and the two of them jammed their hands into the rocks, ripping them back until they could plunge their arms through to the other side.   
  
They were pushed with the current through a waterfall, and into a river, scrambling for land.   
  
And they reached it, coughing, spluttering, soaked. Hawke hauled herself onto the bank, and Fenris did the same.  
  
"We made it," Fenris gasped triumphantly, hugging the grass.  
  
"His skin glows," Hawke said in disbelief, when she could speak again, rolling onto her back.  
  
"I'm alive. We're alive," Fenris laughed.  
  
"I didn't see that coming," Hawke looked horrified.  
  
"Hawke," He said, grabbing his belt and his frying pan from her slackened fist.  
  
"His hair glows too," She blabbed, awe-stricken.  
  
"Hawke." He re-fastened it, and shook the water from his hair.  
  
"Why does he glow?" She asked nobody in particular, looking up at the clouds.  
  
"Hawke!" He sighed. He was worried she was going into shock.   
  
"What?" She asked shrilly, sitting up with a groan.  
  
"I don't just glow." He smirked gently.  
  
"Why are you so amused with this?" She asked, terrified.


	10. Campfire

About an hour later, the sun had set, and Hawke had built a campfire. The normal way - she still couldn't and didn't want to summon flames from her palms.  
  
Her clothes were finally dry, and so were the elf's. They's speculated what to have for their next meal, but it had mostly been silence between them, following the trauma they'd experienced.   
  
Hawke sat on a boulder, and Fenris sat across from her. The firelight danced across his mysterious expression. He held her hand between both of his, very gently.  
  
"So...." Hawke began, anxious. "You're being strangely cryptic as you cradle my broken hand against your magic skin."   
  
She also had a deep gash in her leg, a sprained elbow, and a black eye, as well as various other scrapes and bruises. But he was completely unharmed, despite her falling on him from high up, with her full body weight, no less. His powers probably gave him resilience, or instant regeneration.   
  
Even as a mage, Hawke was uncertain about Fenris's abilities. She disliked magic: using it, studying it. She hated the circle, and that was why she broke out. She'd seen healing spells, but nothing too complex - they'd never let you get too powerful in Kirkwall's lockdown circle - and she'd definitely never heard of anyone who could heal with hair, or tattoos embedded in their skin.   
  
Of course, she'd thought Fenris's hair and markings to be odd initially, but she never would've guessed it was because his very soul was infused with lyrium.   
  
"Sorry," Fenris said softly. He hesitated. "Just...don't panic?" He raised his eyebrows pleadingly.   
  
Hawke made no promises. She sat still, and stiff, waiting for something to happen.  
  
He sighed, and closed his eyes. Slowly, he began to recite the words he knew by heart, ingrained deeper in his memory than anything else.   
  
As he spoke, his voice strong and sure, his hair ignited like before, glistening white on his head like a halo. His markings were even more electric up close, a gentle blue glow surrounding where his hand touched hers. She held her breath, taking in the sensation, her skin tingling, her head filled with a warm haze. 

He opened his eyes, searching to meet hers. She took her hand from his, gasping in horror as she examined her perfectly healed hand. Her pain had virtually dissolved. Eyes wide, she showed her repaired hand to him, bending her fingers, mouth opening to exclaim, probably.  
  
"Please don't panic!" Fenris grimaced, as the last waves of light off his aura faded, and he returned to normal. His expression begged her not to make a scene.  
  
Hawke's scream died in her mouth. She checked her other injuries; gone. Even some from before she'd met him had vanished entirely. She leaned chin in her hand, a smile of wild disbelief spreading across her face. Her words flew out in a stream. "I'm not freaking out are you freaking out no I'm just very interested in your hair and your skin and the magical qualities that they possess how long have they been doing that exactly?"  
  
Fenris squinted a moment to register what she'd said, and to decipher where the question was. "Ah, well, forever, I guess..." He said, his head tilted downwards in shyness. "My mas-- Danarius says that when I was a baby, people tried to cut it. They wanted to take it for themselves," He said, a little vengeful in his tone. But still humble, quiet. 

  
"But, once it's cut, it turns brown and loses its power." He turned slight to the side, lifting his wispy metallic locks to show her a chunk of hair that was a chestnut brown. "A gift like that, it has to be protected. That's why Danarius never let me…That's why I never left the…" He trailed off, with a sigh.  
  
"You never left that tower," Hawke finished for him. She'd been listening intently, soaking in every word, every new piece of information. In her head, she was forming a collage of what she knew about him. She tried to picture him with brown hair. "And you're still gonna go back...?" She asked. She understood protecting his powers, they were incredibly valuable and even she, the thief she was, couldn't put a price on it. But being locked in the tower to protect his gift from people: it was the opposite of being locked in the Circle, to protect people from her gift.  
  
"No..." Fenris started, and then he shook his head. "Yes. It's complicated." He scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn't want to talk about himself anymore. He was replaying what she'd said to him seconds before they thought they were going to die.   
  
"So, you're an apostate?" He asked, his hands resting absently on his shoulders, though his voice contained an unavoidably sharp edge of distrust.  
  
"Uh, yeah.." Hawke said, averting her eyes in shame. "I'll spare you the sob story of poor orphan Emory Hawke, imprisoned in the circle at age six," She leaned her head back against an adjacent boulder, staring into the bonfire. Fenris's eyebrows raised: he wanted to know more, however deceived he felt, not knowing all this time.   
  
She glanced and saw his interest, deciding to console him a little. "I'm terrible at magic, I never do it, I never wanted to be this way. I think it's rather dangerous. Your magister is a prime example of that," She said, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.  
  
"You're a fugitive from the Circle," He guessed. "I'm assuming you're from Kirkwall. Those were templars." He was finally piecing together the bits of information that hadn't fit together before.  
  
She nodded to confirm. "It's terrible in there, repressed and beaten back. The templars almost nearly rule the kingdom. I'm not proud of being a mage, I had no interest in learning to control my abilities, because I plan to ignore them. I can't imagine what it's like to actually want freedom of magical expression," She wondered. She'd never said that aloud, although it was a frequent thought of hers as she'd spent day by day watching the other mages struggle within the confinements.  
  
"You shouldn't be ashamed of who you are," Fenris murmured almost inaudibly.   
  
Hawke was surprised to hear that from him, because of how he'd been raised under the tyrannical nature of a magister, in Tevinter, where it was acceptable. She would have guessed him to approve of her denying her true abilities. Then again, he'd never asked to be blessed with silver hair and permanently engraved skin, and he had to deal with it somehow.   
  
"Anyway, there was this one book in the library that I'd read to the other kids, every night. One of the only ones that wasn't about magic. Tales of a swashbuckling rogue, richest woman alive, not bad with romance, either. Not that she'd brag about any of it, of course."   
  
"Ah. Was she a thief too?" Fenris leaned on his arms, absorbing her story like she'd done to his. His expression remained slightly skeptical.  
  
"Uh, well, no," Hawke admitted, blushing a little in her embarrassment. She'd never told anyone this before. "She had enough money to do anything she wanted to do. She could go anywhere she wanted to go. And for a self-loathing kid, with nothing, I don't know, I... Just seemed like a better option."  
  
Fenris made a thoughtful noise. He looked like he understood. Maybe, just maybe, like he didn't blame her.  
  
"You can't tell anyone about this, okay? It could ruin my whole reputation."   
  
"Ah, we wouldn't want that." He revealed the smallest smile.  
  
"Well, a fake reputation is all a girl has," She laughed quietly, anxiously.  
  
They sat silently after the exchange, looking off in opposite directions. Fenris felt strange, his stomach doing an uncomfortable flop, the cause unidentifiable. He swallowed.  
  
Hawke cleared her throat and stood, dusting off her clothes. "Well, I should get some more firewood," She announced, and started off in the direction of the nearby woods.   
  
Fenris felt words leap to his mouth, and failed to hold them back. "For the record, I like this side of you," He blurted out, and felt his face go warm. Activating his tattoos usually left behind a chill beneath his skin, but it quickly faded, as his blood pumped hotter than usual. He frowned.   
  
Hawke did not look back at him, for the sake of concealing her reddening cheeks. She walked on in her powerful stride, shoulders squared. "Well, then you'd be the first," She said, trying not to make it sound soft. "But thank you."   
  
Fenris smiled, and even though she wasn't looking, he held up a hand to hide it.


	11. Poison

"Well, I thought she'd never leave."  
  
Fenris nearly jumped out of his skin. The voice behind him was terribly familiar, it drained every ounce of the dizzying warmth he'd been filled with not seconds before. He whipped around to find Danarius standing in the wake of the forest, the trees around him gnarled and rotting. The grass died beneath his feet, the air around him heavy with gloom. His dark eyes flashed like lightning. He didn't look nearly as young as he had before, gray in his hair, wrinkles etched into his expression.   
  
"Master," Fenris felt it escape his lips as he tripped over his own feet.   
  
"Hello, little wolf," Danarius said, his voice filled with a calm, sinister bite. His cloak shielded him in shadow, despite how close he was to the orange glow of the campfire. His hands sizzled dangerously.  
  
"But I... don't... uh...how did you find me?" The elf staggered over the question as he balanced on his aching feet, glancing back - Hawke was nowhere in sight. He was too afraid to move any closer to the infuriated magister, his surprise creeping into dread. His heart pounded beneath his armor.  
  
Danarius closed the space in three long strides, bringing his taint with him. He loomed above, and then closed his arms over Fenris into a tight, threatening hug. "Oh, it was easy, really. I just listened to the sound of complete and utter betrayal and followed that," His voice was charged with venom in a fake sweetness, making his flesh crawl. Feeling sick, he wrapped his arms around his master, afraid to speak, afraid to breathe.  
  
"Master.." Fenris managed, as Danarius pulled back from him to glare in disappointment. "We're going home, Fenris. Now." Shards of ice pricked at his fingertips; he felt them cutting at his delicate markings.   
  
"You.... you don't understand," Fenris said, his voice stronger now, his face returning to a state void of smiles, of laughter. Like before. He struggled against the hands around his wrists. "I've been on an incredible journey. I've seen and learned so much. On my own." He wanted to make it clear that although he knew he did need to protect himself, he didn't need to be held in such a strangling grip. "I even met someone."   
  
"Yes, the wanted thief, I'm so proud. Come on, Fenris." He began to tug him towards the ragged trees, veiled with dense mist.  
  
Fenris dragged his heels, planting himself to the ground. "Master, wait. I think she...likes me." His heart skipped a beat. It both thrilled and terrified him to say it out loud, to believe it. He would've smiled then, if not for the grim, sullen face that taunted him.   
  
"Likes you?' He scoffed, a sound that hurt the elf more than it should have. "Please, Fenris, that's ridiculous," He spat, before he began to chuckle in a harsh, degrading fashion. A cold gust of wind sliced the clearing.   
  
"But master, I..."  
  
"This is why you never should have left our tower. Child, this whole romance that you've imagined, it just proves that you're too naive to be in the world. Why would she like you? Come on now, really. Look at you, pitiful, defenseless, a freak. You think she's impressed?" He roared with laughter, as he yanked harder. "You know I'm the only one who will ever tolerate you. Come on, back to our tower."  
  
Vicious tears stung at Fenris's eyes, and he fought to hold them back, beginning to struggle. "No!" He snarled.   
  
"No?" Danarius let go of him, so suddenly that the elf toppled over. "Oh. I see how it is." He looked down at him, crossing his arms dramatically. "Fenris has grown up." He shrugged, strolling in a circle around him. "So mature, clever. You don't need me to protect you. You don't need my help at all," He turned his nose up, playing on the guilt.  
  
"If you're so sure, why don't you give her this?" He pulled Hawke's bag from his robes, with a wicked smile, and tossed it down to him, the crown spilling out. It shone brighter than it ever had before in the moonlight. "How did you..." Fenris wondered at first, shocked by this plunge his streak of freedom had taken.  
  
"This is the only reason she's here, the only reason she'll ever look twice at you, fool! Give it to her, you'll see!" Danarius was alight with flame, the earth quaking beneath him.   
  
"I will!" Fenris growled, trying to fight his crippling fear.  
  
"She'll deceive you, she'll walk away the second she sees it. Oh, you'll feel terrible," He shrugged. "I won't say I told you so. No. Fenris knows it all. Well, if she's such a catch, go and test her loyalty. I'll bet she's worse than you, and that's saying something. Don't come crying back to me, don't waste my time!" Dark clouds swirled in the sky above him as he boomed insult after insult. Only the worth of Fenris's silver tattoos and hair stopped him from ripping him to shreds.   
  
And the elf knew that. He quaked with anger where he lay defeated in the grass, clamping his mouth shut to remain silent. "Goodbye. Helpless little fool." He watched as Danarius finally swept up his cloak and vanished, leaving behind a trail of destruction. Only then did he let a single tear fall.  
  
"So..." He heard Hawke's voice distant, but returning. The warmth of the campfire seemed like an entirely different world from where the cold, painful place where he'd just been. He scrambled to stuff the crown in a hollow tree trunk and launch himself over a boulder to sit by the fireside.   
  
He covered his onslaught of emotions with a vacant, dreamy expression, staring at an ant as it meandered along the dirt. He wanted to squish it.  
  
Hawke was returning with her arms overflowing with freshly chopped firewood, which she dropped with a sigh, wiping her forehead. "Hey, uh...can I ask you something?" She said, as she loaded more fuel onto the nearly dying flame. "Is there any chance that I'm gonna get super strength or something? Because I'm not gonna lie, that would be stupendous." She chuckled lightly, and then she observed Fenris's dull disposition, how he frowned at the firepit.  
  
"Hey, you alright?"  
  
"Oh, Sorry, yeah. Just...lost in thought, I guess," He said flatly, with only a slight glance her way.   
  
"I mean, because, here's the thing," She carried on merrily, as she plopped down next to him. "Superhuman good looks, I've always had them, born with it. But superhuman strength? Way better than being a mage! Can you imagine the possibilities...?"  
  
Fenris looked at her, his legs pulled to his chest. Her speech faded away, and instead he just watched her, the way her eyes lit up. He noted the questions he had for her, he tried not to be too swayed by her smile. If Danarius was right, if this was all a scam....he couldn't bear the thought of how his heart would break, no matter how hard he may try to resist it.


End file.
